I 'm on my way to where you are I know you 're still living on Santa Monica Boulevard I pass all the familiar spots Places I see now that I 'd rather not I know I left some things behind I told you when I walked out to throw away whatever you find Your black drapes keep away the sun I wish you could see all the gardener 's done In your bed, I see a child's hand Reach from under the covers to touch the nightstand I need something to hold onto, man Your hallway filled up with too much at one time Are you still taking home whatever you find? Let come what may make way soon We went picking elderflowers in June You 'd spot the branch from the ground I'd climb the ladder, and I 'd cut it down I try to take only what 's mine But sometimes you need to grab whatever you find